


Eliminating the Distance

by NotAsSweetasASweetPotato



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Kinda ignores Endgame completely tbh, Let's just enjoy Stony kissing and making up, Lots of Nebula & Tony bonding, M/M, One-Shot, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Reunions, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Written before we even knew Endgame's title, coping with loss, mostly - Freeform, some - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAsSweetasASweetPotato/pseuds/NotAsSweetasASweetPotato
Summary: Set immediately after Infinity War, Nebula and Tony journey from space to New York to Wakanda to make amends with the remaining Avengers and formulate a plan for defeating Thanos. No planning really happens; this was just an excuse to re-write Tony and Steve's reunion scene as well as to explore some of Tony's grief. Also, I love Tony and Nebula interacting with one another, so there's a lot of that, too.





	Eliminating the Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I wrote this a month or so after being devastated by Infinity War, but I never posted it because I'm a perfectionist and so I let myself enjoy nothing. The ending after the final asterisks was written today, but everything else was written prior to Endgame, so please excuse all the glaring inconsistencies between Steve and Tony's reunion here versus their real reunion in Endgame.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Does anyone else feel unbelievably wronged by that movie or is it just me? I know here is not the place, but good lord some scenes in Endgame felt either forced or ooc. However, the ending was undeniably good and made me experience several emotions in such a short time-span so...

To Tony, nothing has ever felt as good as popping off his face plate and inhaling a lungful of New York City’s polluted air. When he was fighting Thanos, after Quill lost his cool and managed to fuck the entire universe over at once, Tony was sure he’d never smell this city’s rank air again. Then, after everyone disappeared and he was left on Titan with Nebula, he was even more certain that he would die on a planet where the dirt reminded him of cheap salmon and the air smelled like old machinery. He can’t believe he’s actually here right now. 

“So this is the place Quill was so fond of,” Nebula says somewhere behind Tony. She’s following him around as he looks for a car with the keys still in the ignition. Technically, they’re both on the prowl for a working vehicle, but since Nebula doesn’t quite know what keys to a car look like, or where they would even be located inside a car, she’s not that helpful. Still, Tony enjoys her company as well as her commentary. Without her, he would be forced to think of Pepper and how she didn’t return the thirty-seven calls he made to her the moment Ebony Maw’s rewired ship broke the atmosphere. Without Nebula, Tony would have to think about the absence of Quill, Mantis, Drax, Stephen Strange, and P--...the kid. 

“Nope,” Tony sighs as he fails to pry open yet another car door. How did they all get this jammed? He could reactivate his suit for better strength, but he just deactivated the suit for the first time in weeks, and he’s rather enjoying the feel of autumn wind on his body and running through his hair. At this point, Tony would rather move on and find another car than use his suit for anything short of the second coming of Thanos.

Nebula appears in front of him then and stops his path to another forgotten car. “Why did you say that?” 

Tony has never been so thankful for an alien-translator in his life, even if it does irritate the skin on the back of his ear. “Say what?”

Her face is hard and expectant. “Nope.”

“Well, you said Quill was fond of this place. I nopped because I don’t think Quill has ever visited New York,” he tells her as he steps around her and heads towards an old, golden Honda that looks promising. 

He tries the car’s handle a few times and then peers inside the forgotten vehicle. The windows are dustier than a Nevada desert, though; he can’t see anything within. He gives up and is maneuvering to yet another car when he hears the distinctive, dull screech of metallic tearing and turns to see Nebula ripping the driver-side door from the Honda. 

“This isn’t Earth? Quill is from Earth,” she says, mostly to herself, before she steps back to let Tony stick his head inside the old car to see if there are keys inside.

“This isn’t Missouri,” Tony mumbles. “Aha! Keys!” He turns back to look at Nebula. She doesn’t look nearly as amused or spirited as Tony is trying to be, so he wilts. He lets his face drop and shows his true emotion, an unhealthy blend of discomfort and exhaustion. He breaks eye contact and gestures Nebula forward. “Get in. We’ve gotta go upstate.”

Of course Nebula, ignorant to the existence of passenger doors, pushes past him and crawls in the car through the driver’s side. She steadies herself in the passenger seat and squints at the dirt-caked windshield. “Is this a screen? Will we be able to see once you turn this thing on?”

“Uh, I hope so,” Tony quips. He slides into the car and turns the ignition, feeling at home in a machine that’s he’s familiar with; driving Maw’s ship had been a nightmare. 

The car starts like a dream, and soon, after he’s cleared the windshield with windshield fluid and wipers, Tony is driving through wrecked cars, extinguished fires, and the occasional shocked face. He tries not to think about how empty New York looks and feels with half the population wiped from existence. He tries not to think about how easy it is to drive through the virtually traffic-less city despite the destruction that was caused here not even a whole week ago. Thinking about Thanos, about missing people, is trouble that Tony can’t afford to get himself into at the moment. He needs to focus and get to the new Avengers’ facility. Having an anxiety attack right now will only delay his plan and freak Nebula out.

But still. Just like on the ride from Titan back to Earth, the car ride is silent save for the low purr of the Honda’s engine. Tony finds himself caught between highway hypnosis/almost falling asleep at the wheel and worrying himself into a cold sweat. 

Just when Tony thinks the silence is going to eat him alive because he’s somehow forgotten he can turn on the radio, Nebula decides it’s a good time to send Tony into a full blown panic attack.

“Was he your child?”

“ _What?_ ” he yelps. Tony brakes like a toddler’s waddled out in from of them. “Is who my what? I don’t have any kids.” He sounds a whole lot more anxious than he intends to, and he doesn’t miss how Nebula startles and cocks back her first. She hesitates, though, gives Tony enough time to usher out a fast apology, and Tony’s glad that Nebula’s lost someone important to her, too. If she didn’t, he’s not sure she wouldn’t have punched him in the throat for overreacting. 

Nebula glares at him for a tense second before she lowers her arm, takes a deep breath, and tries again. She speaks through clenched teeth and the inappropriate image of an angry robotic dog crosses Tony’s mind. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. You just...You’ve been so quiet. You’re not as quippy as you were when we first met. And I saw the way you looked...cried...when the kid who was with you disappeared.” Are aliens capable of interpreting human emotion? Tony genuinely asks himself. Do they know what sensitive topics are? “I just think you should talk about it. Better to talk than to mope around. So I’ll ask you again. The child in the suit with the web designs...Was he your son?”

Tony groans and applies light pressure to the accelerator. He’s not up for this conversation, probably won’t be until he manages to get Peter back. That is, if there’s even a way to get Peter back. 

Tony’s worrying his lip and has his eyes glued on the road while he answers her. “ _No_ ,” he grits, more like an exhausted athlete than someone who’s actually angry. “He was… _important_ to me, like a son to me, but he wasn’t mine. I mean.” He sighs. “He was mine, he _is_ mine, I--I made his suit.” He can’t do this. He needs to shut up before he shatters. God knows he’s already broken. 

Nebula whips her head around when Tony’s eyes begin to glisten and his burn. She doesn’t want to see him fall apart like this, not when he held himself together so well these past few days. Also, listening to Tony finally begin talking about someone he lost makes her think of Gamora. Nebula remembers Gamora’s stupid grins and her smug laughter. She remembers the way Gamora would look at Quill as if he were the center of her universe, and how that idiot girl gave away the location of the soul stone for Nebula’s life.

“Damn you,” she hisses at Tony. If he hadn’t had gotten so emotional, she wouldn’t have this ache in her chest.

Nebula smacks her cheeks, pinches her thigh, but the pain won’t go away. The damage has been remembered, the floodgates have opened, and so her only option is to take a deep breath before she drowns.

“Shit, shit,” Tony curses. He pulls over and together they sob in the old Honda. They don’t touch each other, they don’t look at each other, they don’t acknowledge each other. Both Tony and Nebula blame one another for the immense pain they feel, and so they both let themselves mourn in the way that they haven’t yet had the time to. 

Tony grips the worn steering wheel until his tanned knuckles whiten and Nebula bites her bottom lip until it dents. 

Ten minutes later, they compose themselves and Tony begins driving again like they never broke down, like they have been fine all along.

***

Tony isn’t surprised by the silence that greets them in the new tower. He calls out for Pepper, just once, just to see if she’ll call back. He hates himself even more when she doesn’t. He knew she wouldn’t, knew she was long gone, but he had to try. Some insane part of him thought that if he just wished hard enough, she’d reappear and he’d be able to take her into his arms and tell her how much this hurt and how sorry he was. Although, if wishing for Peter’s reappearance on Titan didn’t work, where Tony was more belligerent, more desperate, wishing for Pepper on Earth where he’s detached won’t work either.

“Nice house,” Nebula whispers. Tony notes that her hands are clenched into fists even if she’s forced the muscles in her face to relax, to make her look calm and unaffected. He wonders if she was hoping Pepper would call out to him, too, to restore her faith in miracles, too. Or maybe he’s just projecting his emotions onto her and whatever hopes she held onto are long gone.

“This _is_ a nice house,” Tony agrees. “Too bad we’re not staying here. C’mon, the jet’s underground.”

Nebula shifts and her expression changes for a second, flickers to something akin to concerned, but then she shakes whatever thought she was having from her head and follows Tony to the nearest elevator. The home has stairs, as all do, but Tony’s too damn tired to bother with them. 

The ride down to the basement is so silent Tony thinks he can hear the thoughts of his thoughts. 

Tony shouts when the elevator doors open to reveal his state-of-the-art basement. “Friday, daddy’s home! The hell are you so quiet for?” 

“I know you’re home, boss,” Friday chimes from the speakers in the walls. Nebula jumps and then crouches. “However, your heart rate is accelerated and you are sweating profusely. Also, you’ve brought a guest home that isn’t human, and our communication has been disconnected for several days. I thought maybe you would have liked for me to keep quiet.”

Nebula’s eyes dart around, but the basement is too dark to see much of anything. Well, at least for Tony. For all he knows, the alien girl’s got night vision. Even as Tony makes his way off the elevator and through the dark hall, Nebula stays put.

“Where is she?” she snaps. She’s stopped right outside the elevator door, unwilling to move an inch until the mysterious person comes out of hiding.

“She’s not real,” Tony yells from farther away in the garage. He’s feeling around, using his proprioception sense to help him navigate his way to the quinjet. Was his workspace always this messy? “The voice you hear, Friday, she’s artificial intelligence I created some time ago. Just a computer. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” Nebula growls at the same time that Friday says, “I am real.”

Nebula hesitates before she runs after Tony, tripping and cursing her whole way to him. She stops in front of the quinjet just as Friday decides to turn on the lights.

“Oh, so now Friday wants me to be able to see,” Tony gripes. 

“You never gave me instruction to illuminate the room, boss,” Friday says, way too happy. If only she knew what Tony had gone through, she wouldn’t be so quick to banter. Tony would have to tell her to watch his visuals from the past week, and then he’d have to reprogram her to be a tad bit more sensitive, like the way he programmed Karen to be. 

“This ship is exceptional,” Nebula pipes up, startling him. 

Tony frowns at her from the jet’s entrance. “I tell you I’ve created artificial intelligence and you don’t bat an eye, but _this_ does?” He gestures to the jet.

Nebula just nods, taking it all in.

“Unbelievable.” He heads inside.

“Wait,” Nebula calls. 

As soon as Nebula enters the jet, Friday closes the door and starts the engine. “Where to, boss?”

“The motherland, my dear.”

***

_What even is sleep?_

Since Thanos had gotten his way, Tony hasn’t been able to sleep for more than three hours at a time. Now that Friday is autopiloting his jet, he assumes he’ll sleep for the seven hour plane ride to Wakanda. He’s already told Friday to let him know when they’re a good fifteen minutes away so that he can wake up, prepare himself for his reunion with the rest of the Avengers, and so he can activate his suit incase the Wakandans don’t recognize the jet and decide to shoot him and Nebula out of the sky. When Tony closes his eyes, however, he’s met with a startling image of Peter fading away, and now he has to sit up and be angry and awake for seven whole ass hours.

“I don’t know why you even tried,” Nebula mumbles. She has her seat in an upright position and her right cheek pressed against the jet’s tinted window. She stares straight out, watches the sunrise. “You know we’re not going to truly rest until we undo what Thanos did.”

“I’m going to go crazy if I don’t get _at least_ half an hour of shut-eye,” Tony utters, mostly to himself. Unsurprisingly, Nebula hears him. She’s half-machine, he thinks. Of course she heard you. 

“You watched your offspring turn to ash in your own arms. You’re already crazy.” Nebula isn’t trying to push any buttons, she’s really not. She just can’t stop talking. She’d rather at pick someone else’s festering wounds than acknowledge her own. 

But she doesn’t know that Tony’s at his wit’s end. He’s too vulnerable to be picked on now.

Tony whirls on her, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, blunt nails digging into the armrests on either side of him. “ _Lady,_ I need you to stop bringing Peter up right now or I’m gonna crash this plane into the goddamn countryside,” Tony snaps as if he really is losing his mind. He’d rather threaten suicide than talk about Peter. He shouldn’t be like this, but he can’t help it. He can’t help anything or anyone. That’s why they’re in this situation in the first place. If he’d have been stronger, he could have ripped Thanos’ gauntlet off his nasty, purple hand. Or he could have cut Thanos’ hand off his arm. Or he could have grabbed Quill before he attacked Thanos and made him _not fuck everyone over._

“Peter and Pepper?” Nebula says in a pensive voice that drags Tony out of one of his many bouts of his self-pity. “You’ve lost two Ps in your life.”

That’s it.

Tony activates his suit and aims his thruster at her, prepared to fire. Nebula narrows her eyes. “Shoot at me and you’ll lose a third P.” 

Tony gives her his dirtiest scowl. “If you don’t want me to hurt you, shut your trap, Neytiri.” And with that, he rolls over onto his side, finds the handle to release his seat, and lays back. He doesn’t bother deactivating the suit. Instead, he thinks maybe if he forces his body into the right position with the suit on, his mind will consider him safe and will shut down. Tony can only hope.

***

Peter braces himself against the blue glass counter and laughs. He’s wearing his school clothes and he’s laughing so hard that he’s crying.

“Calm down, Pete, it wasn’t that funny,” Tony says despite how he’s grinning like a fool because Peter laughing has got to be his favorite sight in the world second to Steve Rogers sweaty after a battle and Pepper naked in bed.

Tony’s sitting on a soft barstool beside Peter, dressed in all black, chin resting on his fist, and he’s drinking in the kid’s enthusiasm. This is something he never wants to lose. Peter’s happiness means the world to him. 

Peter doesn’t stop laughing and so Tony rolls his eyes. “C’mon, kid, cut it out. We’ve got work to do.” Peter shakes his head, and the tears fall faster now. “You’re a crying mess,” Tony chides.

Peter pauses then, sniffles. He wipes only one of his cheeks and his smile wavers. “I’m a crying mess? What about you, Mr. Stark?”

Tony frowns. He snaps his head down to catch sight of his reflection in the glass and, sure enough, his face is wet. Tony touches his cheek just to be sure. Why the hell….

“Don’t be sad, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. His smile is watery and he looks mournful. “I’m okay. I’m always gonna be okay.”

Tony’s vision blurs and he realizes his lips are mashed together and his heart is racing. “What are you talking about?” He hops down from the barstool and moves to Peter’s side, places a hand on the kid’s shoulder, and his shoulder is so warm and so _real._ “Pete, is everything okay?”

Peter leans into Tony’s touch, forlorn. His eyes are big and vulnerable, like the eyes of an abused puppy. “I’m gonna be okay.”

No matter how sad Peter looks, he never stops smiling. Tony wants to hug him, to tell the boy he loves him. As soon as he begins to speak, however, Peter cuts him off.

“Mr. Stark, sir, I hate to tell you this, but you’re overheating.”

***

“Sir…? Sir…? Your temperature is one hundred degrees. I’m deactivating your nanobots.”

Tony gasps as cool air hits his skin and he comes to. He’s sweating _everywhere,_ his cheeks are wet, and when he sees he’s inside the quinjet and Nebula’s watching him as if he’s ticking time bomb, he loses it.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, sitting up so fast he falls forward and out of his seat.

Tony brings his knees into his chest and fists his hair and stills. He’s so damn tired, so fucking sad. What is the biological purpose of having dreams like that? Why would his brain make him dream of someone he was probably never going to see again? Wouldn’t it have been wiser for Tony to dream of football or building a new suit? 

“Sir, take deep breaths. We are thirty minutes away from the destination,” Friday informs.

Tony endeavors a shaky inhale, remembers Peter’s shaky smile, and then loses his shit all over again. 

He doesn’t like this. He feels as weak mentally as he is physically. To make matters worse, he’s sobbing in front of company, and this time, his company’s not sobbing with him. 

His eyes flicker over to Nebula, just once, he can’t help himself, and when he sees the pity her black eyes hold, he wishes he’d kept his eyes closed.

“I need to talk to someone,” he pleads to neither Nebula nor Friday. “Rhodey, Happy.” He pauses, hesitates, and then, “ _Steve._ ”

Nebula clears her throat, unsure if she should speak up, but too uncomfortable to watch Tony fall apart like this for the second time today. “Um, who’s Steve?” she queries.

Tony tenses impossibly more and grimaces up at Nebula, but this time when their eyes meet, he doesn’t look away. Something about her patience reminds him of Pepper and mollifies him enough to allow him to regain pieces of his composure. 

Nebula, assuming her having mentioned Steve was what helped Tony, repeats her question. “Who is Steve?”

Tony sighs and loosens up a bit. He taps his foot against the solid ground of the jet once, twice, and then decides he feels strong enough to stand and make his way back to his seat. “Steve Rogers is, uh, an ex of mine.”

Nebula’s brows shoot up and Tony hurries to correct himself. “Friend, ex-friend.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

 _You’ve done it now,_ Tony thinks to himself. He drops his head back against the headrest and wishes he could melt into the material. “Um, we were close--obnoxiously close--until he tried to kill me in Siberia because I wanted to talk with his friend who I’d just found out had killed my parents.”

Nebula tilts her head to the side. “He tried to kill you because you wanted to talk?”

Tony makes a face. “Well, not just talk per se. I wanted to do a whole lot more to him than that.”

Nebula is quiet for a moment before she nods. “I understand. You said he killed your parents, this friend of Steve’s?”

Wow. Is someone actually… _listening_ to Tony’s side of the story and not judging him right off the bat? 

“Yeah,” he says, encouraged. “Brutally. And Steve knew. He’d known his friend, Bucky, had killed my parents for years, but he never told me. I wouldn’t have been so upset if he’d have just told me.”

At the dubious look Nebula throws him, Tony corrects himself. “Okay, fine, maybe I would have still tried to kill Bucky. But I wouldn’t have been so upset with Steve!”

Nebula nods again, as if Tony’s saying the most agreeable thing in the world. She leans back in her seat, looks more comfortable than she has since shit hit the fan. “So where is this Steve and his Bucky? And why do you want to talk to Steve, a liar and a murder-ableist?”

Tony chokes and puts his hands up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Steve Rogers is, like, the most pure man I know. He lives for war and all, sure. But he’s not some murder enthusiast or whatever. He’s never okay with innocents being killed.”

Nebula places her elbow on her armrest and rests her chin on the back of her hand. “But he is okay with his friend killing your parents.”

“No, no he definitely isn’t,” Tony corrects Why he’s defending Steve, he has no idea. Maybe he prefers to be the one shit-talking Steve and not someone who’s never met him before. Tony clears his throat. “Steve, he...he wasn’t necessarily okay with Bucky killing my parents. I think...Look, a lot of things happened. Bucky was under mind-control--”

“Steve told you that?”

“No, I found out. Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but really. Bucky was trained and controlled to be an assassin. My parents were just two people he was hired to kill. For Bucky, it was a mission he had no control over. For all he knew, my parents committed some atrocious crime together and he was serving them justice on a silver platter. Steve knew this, that Bucky wouldn’t intentionally hurt them if he was himself, and so...I guess Steve felt like since my parents were already killed and since there was nothing we could do about it, he shouldn’t be mad at Bucky. He was mad at the people who made Bucky into such a demon, sure. But he wasn’t mad at Bucky. And if Bucky was still under mind-control and came for me…” Tony lets that thought go. He wants to continue defending Steve, say that Steve wouldn’t be okay with Bucky trying to kill Tony or anyone else. He wants to say that Steve would save Tony just as Steve would have saved Tony’s parents if he had known Bucky was coming for them. But he doesn’t know if that’s true, so he doesn’t want to say it. 

Nebula sighs, at a loss for words, and shakes her head. Tony wonders if his drama is too messy for her, the unfortunate daughter of Thanos who was broken and repaired too many times to count. 

“Boss, we’re officially fifteen minutes away from Wakanda.”

“Thank you, Friday,” Tony mutters. He gazes down at the unneeded, but much appreciated arc reactor in his chest and gestures for the nanobots to begin activating his suit and covering him once more now that he’s cooled off. As the face plate closes and the HUD display illuminates the inside of his helmet, he wishes he were asleep again, with Peter. Maybe Pepper could even come visit him in his dream this time.

***

Tony’s shocked to see that most of the Wakandan barrier is visible to the naked eye and destroyed when they arrive. What’s even more shocking is how Friday’s able to fly the jet straight through the border with no consequences. No shots are fired, no threats come in through the radio. The entire country is eerily empty, quiet. 

“This doesn’t look good,” Nebula warns.

“No kidding,” Tony quips.

They fly to the field in front of the palace and there’s blood, deformed bodies, and signs of outright chaos everywhere. 

“Boss, a battle seems to have happened here. Is it safe to land?”

Tony is tentative. So far he hasn’t seen anyone, and even though Wakanda is a small country, it’s not _that_ small. Something doesn’t feel right. If he lands, he has his armor, he’ll be fine. But Nebula…

“Hold that thought, babygirl. I’m gonna fly down by myself first and see what’s goin’ on inside the palace. You just hover here and if things get bad, fly Nebula back to the upstate tower.” 

“What?” Nebula shouts, fast to her feet. “You’re not leaving me!”

Tony frowns in the suit even though she can’t see his face. “We don’t know if it’s safe for you to come down yet.”

The glare she gives him is about as cold and hard as the parts she’s made of. “And what am I, some helpless Asgardian? I withstood torture from Thanos and his goons for the majority of my life, and don’t forget I’m the one who helped get you back to Earth when I could have easily taken us anywhere but here.”

Tony winces and inhales sharply. She has a point. “Alright, if you wanna come with me, that’s fine, but if something happens to you--”

“With all due respect, _boss,_ I’m ninety percent metal. I can handle whatever’s waiting for us down there.”

Tony takes a step back, towards the exit. “Wow, okay, I’ve got nothin’.” He gestures for Nebula to follow him. “Let’s go then. Friday, land us, please.”

“Of course, boss.” 

The quinjet hovers and then, in four hundred feet, touches down on African soil. The sky is dark, pitch black. Tony thinks that perhaps the sun has just set here if it was rising in New York. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, and then he heads outside as Friday opens the door for him and Nebula.

As he takes in the mess of the battlefield and the darkness of the palace, he reminds himself that there’s no way Steve is dead. He doesn’t know where Thor is, and he presumes Bruce disintegrated somewhere on Earth. But Steve Rogers and crew have to be alive, or he doesn’t know how he’s going to live with himself, alone.

***

As expected, no one rushes them when they approach the grand palace entrance. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d say the palace was deserted. He’s quiet, on edge, walking as quickly, but quietly as he can. Nebula, on the other hand, doesn’t give a shit for stealth. She walks full speed ahead and opens the palace doors like she owns the place. 

“Freeze!” someone shouts from within. Tony raises both palms up, but his repulsors are on and ready to fire. Nebula, too, raises her fists in the air, both showing that she comes in peace but that she won’t have any qualms against throwing hands if she needs to. “Who are you?” the same voice demands, voice thick and heavily accented.

Tony wishes someone would turn a light on. If it wasn’t for Friday showing him a digital outline of a body not fifty feet away, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. “C’mon, man,” he says. “You don’t have to know who she is, she’s new here, but you really don’t know who I am? Tony Stark? Earth’s greatest avenger?”

Nebula scoffs. Tony cracks a nervous smile. 

“Tony Stark is dead,” the man says in a firm, assured voice. “So, no. I do not know who you are. All I know is you are trespassing in King T’Challa’s home, and we do not take kindly to trespassers here. Go,” he barks. “Go back to your jet and we will let you leave in peace. But if you take another step forward…” Suddenly Friday shows several outlines of men coming from around a corner to back the man addressing him now. “We won’t hesitate to kill.”

Tony whistles through his teeth and two of the men jump before lifting spears. “You guys are tense. Take it easy. I am Tony Stark.” When no one moves, he says, “Friday, deactivate the bots for a second, please.”

Ever the combatant, Friday stalls with, “Boss, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Just as quickly, Tony reminds her that he created her to assist him, not question his commands, and in seconds, the suit retracts back into his arc reactor while Tony stands susceptible to the small army of Wakandans. 

“Bast, it can’t be,” a feminine voice squeaks. Lights flicker on and a short, thin girl with skin the color of something luxurious steps into view. Tony squints and sees they’re surrounded by walls made of glass, and behind the glass, what must be Wakandan civilians are watching them. “Tony Stark,” the girl continues. “I--your friends told me…”

“Stay back, ma’am,” the man from before snaps when the girl is a few feet away from Tony. 

The princess scowls at him. “Stand down. This man is our friend.” 

“Uh, Princess Shuri, right?” Tony extends his hand and then jumps back as a spear is sent flying and almost takes his head off. “Jesus, would you get on a leash on those guys?” 

“Wakabi, I told you to stand down. T’Challa’s dead and I’m your leader now. Return to your quarters, _please_.”

Just like that, the men exchange glances with one another before they give Tony a last threatening glare and slowly retreat to wherever the hell they came from. Tony watches them go before what Shuri said really catches up to him.

“Wait, _what?_ What do you mean the king’s dead?” he demands, stepping closer to her. 

Shuri’s brow furrows and she reaches out to take one of Tony’s hands in both of hers. Tony notes that her hands are small and dainty and wonders how she can be the adored engineer he’s heard so much about. “Where have you been all this time?” she asks. “How do you not know what’s happened?”

“We were on another planet,” Nebula says.

Shuri stares at her, blank-faced, and then Tony realizes he’ll have to translate. He repeats what Nebula said, this time in English. 

Shuri flinches. “Are she one of them?” Her eyes dart from Tony to Nebula and back. “Did you bring one of them back here with you?”

“Well, no, I’m not an idiot. She’s been harmed by Thanos more times than we have, Princess,” Tony reassures. “This is Nebula. Nebula, this is Shuri, princess--”

“Queen,” Shuri cuts in, regretfully.

Tony clears his throat, eyes the stricken Wakandas watching them behind the glass. “Yes, Shuri is the queen of Wakanda.”

The women shake hands and greet one another. All the while, Tony looks through the glass walls again, past the people. Where are the Avengers? Where’s Steve?

 

Shuri is saying something about living quarters and getting Tony and Nebula cleaned up, when Tony interrupts her.

“Queen Shuri, if I may...Where is Steve Rogers?”

Shuri doesn’t look offended or taken aback at all. If anything, she appears a little sheepish. “Captain Rogers notified me that he’d like the location of all the Avengers to remain classified.”

“They’re not here?”

Shuri crosses her arms. “I didn’t say that.”

“So they _are_ here,” Tony says, mimicking her posture. When Shuri mashes her lips together in a fine line, Tony exhales loudly. “Look, I’m a friend of Steve’s. I’m also the number one financial support system of the Avengers. I have a right to know where there are.”

The expression on Shuri’s face melds into something akin to amused bewilderment. Her brows raise and the corners of her lips quirk like she’s about to laugh. “With all do respect, Mr. Stark, the last time I checked, you were trying to kill Sergeant Barnes, and Steve was protecting him from you. Also, there are warrants out for every last Avenger and super human who didn’t sign the Accords. How can I trust that you won’t kill someone if I take you to where everyone is resting? Or that you won’t arrest as many of them as you can on sight?” Shuri pauses, eyes Nebula warily. “For all I know, this woman here can be in on--”

“Would you stop for a second?” Tony begs, feigning weariness to hide his gnawing frustration. He sighs, annoyed that he’s lost his temper yet again today, and softens his voice a little, tries to reel himself in. “Our world has fallen to pieces. Agent Ross and the other people handling the Accords are probably long gone. If a building didn’t fall on them in New York, there’s a great chance they were wiped by Thanos. That means we all need to _work together._ As pissed as I am at Steve for punching me in the face, breaking my multimillion dollar suit, and then taking off with his winter boyfriend and abandoning me in Siberia, I am able to put that behind me in favor of working with him so that I can be reunited with the people in the world who mean the most to me.”

“Winter boyfriend,” Shuri mumbles under her breath, keeping up her amused facade. “I understand where you’re coming from, Mr. Stark, I really do. But just like you have people who are important to you missing, so do I. My brother disintegrated because of Thanos. So did my crush, Steve’s “winter boyfriend.” The last thing Bucky would want is for me to let you near Steve at a time like this.”

Tony’s getting impatient. He begins pacing, afraid he’ll start screaming if he doesn’t walk off some frustrated energy.

Nebula proves to be his saving grace. “Hey,” she says, addressing Shuri. “You’re a queen now, right? That means being diplomatic is your number one job.” Tony is hesitant to translate this, afraid it might get them thrown out, but he pries open his lips and tells Shuri what the blue woman said anyways.

Shuri narrows her eyes and approaches Nebula. “No, protecting my people is my number one priority. Mr. Rogers and the Avengers are under my protection, so they are my people."

“But they’re not in any danger!” Tony bursts out. “I don’t understand why you’re being so unreasonable!"

It seems Shuri’s patience has run out as well. All of a sudden, she raises her bracelet to her lips and calls Wakabi and his men back to the room. The sound of feet pounding on the flooring puts a lump in Tony’s throat and makes his stomach drop. He can take these men out if he has to, he tells himself. But his confidence in his ability to fight off several advanced Wakandan soldiers without causing major destruction in the palace and possibly injuring the Wakandan civilians or Nebula is low at best.

__“Wait!” Nebula yells, grabbing Shuri’s lowered wrist in her metallic grasp. Shuri moves like she’s going to attack, so Tony pulls on Nebula’s arm until she steps away. But Nebula’s talking all the while._ _

__“What if we make a deal? Your border, it’s torn to pieces, and any of Thanos’ minions can turn up at any moment to finish destroying this place. I can fix it. How about you let Tony meet with just one Avenger, this Steve Rogers guy, in a safe location with you and your guards. Tony doesn’t have to see where the Avengers are staying, and he doesn’t have to meet the other Avengers, he just has to meet Steve. While they’re talking, I’ll work on repairing your border. When they’re finished talking, if they haven’t reached an agreement, Tony and I will leave. Right, Tony?”_ _

__Tony stares at her, incredulous, but he’s quick to tell Shuri what was said all the same._ _

__Wakabi and his men have long since entered the room, but they’re awaiting a command before they attack. Shuri stares at Nebula, hard, and Tony reminds himself that although Shuri looks like a teenager, this woman is just that, a woman. And she can probably kick Nebula’s ass and give Tony a run for his money if she wants to._ _

__“Fine,” she says, all humor gone from her expression. “You will repair our border, or as much as you can while you remain in our country, and Mr. Stark will meet with Steve in a closed off room of the palace where I and my guards will have video and audio surveillance. If either of you try to deceive me in any way, you will be sorry.”_ _

__With that, Shuri steps away from the pair and begins walking away while talking furiously into her bracelet. Seconds later, four female guards, each with shaved heads and dressed in extravagant red, come. Two of them escort Nebula to what Tony hopes is a lab for tools while the other two escort Tony deeper into the palace.__

*** 

The darkness of the palace is lifting with the harsh African sunrise, painting the walls with an incandescent blue-gray and making Tony feel like he’s in a trance. He wonders if the guards are purposefully taking the slow way to the room he’ll be meeting Steve in. He also wonders if maybe they’ve gone in two or three circles. So much of the palace looks the same. White walls with gold and silver accents, glass walls every now and then, large doors with elaborate designs on them. 

Tony guesses it takes a total of thirteen minutes to arrive at The Room.

__“Mr. Rogers is already inside,” one of his female guards tells him in a soft voice. She must sense Tony’s nervousness, or maybe she reads the apprehension on his face. “We will wait outside this door.”  
The guards stand to either side of the door, waiting for Tony to try the handle and venture inside. However, Tony doesn’t budge. _ _

__The truth is, he didn’t think he’d make it this far. He thought Shuri would tell him that Steve Rogers was dead, or missing, or had left Wakanda altogether to live on a small island or something. As much as Tony hoped for Steve to be alive, he didn’t think he’d ever actually see him again._ _

__Tony hasn’t seen Steve in years. Steve with his sharp chin and stubborn eyes. His clean shaven face and styled hair. Does he look the same after all these years? Does Tony?_ _

__“Mr. Stark?” the guard from before asks. “Is everything alright?” She exchanges a look with the other guard._ _

__“Maybe he needs some rest,” the one who hasn’t spoken yet says. “He came from another planet, yeah? We should get him a room.”_ _

__Tony finds himself nodding along with her, agreeing with her, and he has to stop himself. As great as a warm bed in the safest place on Earth sounds, meeting Steve right now is just something he has to do. They have to see each other, make amends, and begin planning how the hell they’re going to fix Thanos’ mess. Tony won’t be able to rest if they don’t._ _

__Without saying a word, Tony steadies himself, grips the cool handle of the door, and opens it. He doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until he steps inside and notices everything is dark._ _

__When he forces his eyes open, what he doesn’t see is Steve Rogers._ _

__No, the man before him now is buffer, dressed in all black, and looks like he’s ready sing Country Roads Take me Home._ _

__The man stands when Tony closes the door behind him, and Tony hates so much that he has a more haunted version of Steve’s eyes. The man’s beard is thick and rugged, his hair chin-length, brushed back into a dirty blond waterfall._ _

__“Tony, you don’t look so well,” the guy says, sounding very much like his Steve, and oh god, Tony’s going to be sick._ _

__“I need to sit down,” he mumbles, staggering to a white, wool ottoman not two feet away. He collapses onto the plush cushion and runs both his hands through his tangled hair._ _

__“I thought you were dead,” Steve says when Tony still doesn’t address him._ _

__“Well that makes two of us.” Have Tony’s shoes always been this scuffed and dirty? His tennis shoes look like they’ve been on a homeless man for years and years and years. He doesn’t want to look away from them._ _

__“I gave you the phone, and I sent you a letter,” Steve says, carefully calm. “You were the first of all of us to see encounter Thanos’ fleet. You could have called me as soon as you knew the world was in danger.”_ _

__Tony rolls his eyes at the tattered end of one of his shoe laces. “Well, I was kind of busy saving a wizard and my kid, in case you didn’t see any footage of what went down online.”_ _

__Steve’s breathing goes uneven for a split second, but by the time Tony looks up, his chest is rising and falling at a gentle pace._ _

__“I’m glad you’re alive,” Steve says after a beat. He shuffles around, hands limp at his sides, barefoot, and eventually makes his way to sit on the edge of the stripped bed in the room. The position makes him face the door and puts him perpendicular to Tony so that Tony can openly watch him without any awkwardness._ _

__“I’m sorry that I prioritized holding a grudge against your friend over our relationship,” Tony blurts out._ _

__Steve’s head snaps in his direction, but they don’t quite make eye contact. Steve’s gaze is on Tony’s cheek._ _

__“And I’m sorry I never called. I wanted to, I just...didn’t know what I could say. Things changed after Siberia and I didn’t think we could just go back to...whatever we were before.”_ _

__Steve shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s okay, I understand.” He drags his hands out of his pockets with a sigh and lays back on the bed, lashes fluttering closed as he does so. Tony tries not to notice how Steve’s simple black tee has risen up._ _

__In his need for a distraction from Steve’s body and the tension in the room, he supposes he should relax, too. They have a lot to discuss, the two of them. He lets his legs spread out and folds in on himself, putting his elbows on his thighs so they’ll hold his chin on his clasped hands._ _

__“How many did we lose to Thanos?” Tony asks, focusing on the slow rise and fall of the exposed skin of Steve’s toned belly._ _

__Steve doesn’t hesitate. “Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Vision, T’Challa...many Wakandans on the battlefield.” Tony doesn’t think he’s ever heard this man sound so defeated before, so empty._ _

__Wanda and Vision, well...at least there’s one couple that doesn’t have to live without each other._ _

__“I’m sorry about Bucky and Sam,” Tony whispers._ _

__Even with the sun slowly rising and beginning to just barely illuminate the room, from this angle, Tony can’t see Steve’s face. He’s not sure if he wants to._ _

__“So am I.”_ _

__The room is filled with quiet once more and, this time, Tony lets it be. Time drifts as they rest in the room, deep in their thoughts, and Tony falls asleep at some point. When he wakes, the room is bright with blinding sunlight and he squints around, remembering that he’s in Wakanda and was supposed to be talking to Steve._ _

__“I’m over here,” the other man calls out. He’s poking his head out of the closet._ _

__“The hell you doing you over there?”_ _

__Tony stands, stumbles, and tries again._ _

__“Trying to find you something that’ll fit. No offense, but you reek. Also, your clothes are done for.”_ _

__Tony doesn’t reply. He eyes the bed in the corner of the room, thinking maybe that if he tries, he’ll be able to go back to sleep and stay asleep for a good seventy-two hours._ _

__“Shuri thought I was going to kill you, even though she called me a friend to her guards,” Tony grouches to himself after he decides he should just stand and hear out Steve’s plan, if Steve has one._ _

__Steve snorts. “You couldn’t kill me.”_ _

___Don’t get mad, don’t get mad, don’t get mad._ “Whatever,” Tony sighs. “So what’s the plan? How’re we going to get our people back?”_ _

__Steve looks back at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Tony raises a brow at him as if to say _and Steve throws a dark green garment at him. Tony catches it before it touches him.__ _

___“I think it’s a dress-robe sort of thing,” Steve says. “That’ll do for now.”_ _ _

___Tony thanks him and then repeats his original question. “What’s the plan?”_ _ _

___Steve’s brows pinch together as a wry smile curses his face. “Well...I was hoping you had one.”___

***

That afternoon, the two men fuck hard and fast. They’re both desperate, both hopeless, both in need of a solid distraction to keep them from doing some stupid and/or suicidal. They’re in the same room as before, and nothing’s changed except the guards are gone and Tony’s showered. 

Vaguely, while Tony’s screaming into the infinity thread count Egyptian cotton, he hopes Shuri--or whoever’s in charge of watching and listening to them now--has the good grace to turn off the audio and look away.

___Tony’s already came twice in a little over fifty minutes, and he’s sobbing from the stress on his aging body from Steve’s incessant thrusting._ _ _

___“Don’t forget I’m not a super-fucking-soldier!” he growls when Steve’s hips snap sharply and Tony’s hip creaks in response._ _ _

___He’s going to be bruised black and blue tomorrow, he just knows it. Steve, slows, though, and so Tony’s able to relax until Steve orgasms and falls atop him with an unceremonious huff._ _ _

___“Feel...better...now…?” Tony asks, voice thin from exhaustion._ _ _

___Steve rolls off him onto his own stomach. He’s face-first in a pillow thicker than his skull. His voice comes muffled. “Of course I don’t. Do you?”_ _ _

___Tony stares off into space, remembers how terrifying staring into actual space felt like, and shuts his eyes. “We’re going to figure it out, though. You and me.” He nudges Steve’s overheated body with his elbow. “Aren’t we…?”_ _ _

___There’s a grunt from his side, movement, and then Steve’s arms are wrapped around him. “We’ll figure it out or we’ll die trying,” he whispered into Tony’s wispy hair._ _ _

___“Together,” Tony says, allowing himself to be hugged._ _ _

“Together,” Steve echoes.


End file.
